


死亡(death)

by scenerv



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Dark, Deal With It, Explicit Sexual Content, Gore, M/M, No Romance, Original Character Death(s), Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence, and jun a bottom, hansol is a child, i swear im nice and not messed up, idk what I was thinking, kms, mafia, pls forgive me, someone save jun, sorry - Freeform, this ain't pretty, wonwoo is a top, wonwoo is an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 02:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14865291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scenerv/pseuds/scenerv
Summary: The first proper mirror of Junhui's life, he didn't get to see himself





	死亡(death)

**Author's Note:**

> Uhh, hi.  
> So... Umm, I wrote this fanfic at 3 am because I had a nightmare... So uhh, please read the tags and hopefully you don't freak out, cause this ain't pretty

The pillars holding up Junhui's life had come crashing down when he was a wee little boy of three, the insurance money being withheld on account of him being a minor. The hospital nurses could only offer him sympathy and a few back rubs as he saw his parents' bodies being wheeled into the morgue. His father being an only child and his mother being an orphan, Junhui didn't have any first cousins or close relatives that could spare him a few square feet of space in their lives and homes.

His face had been washed, and he had been given his favourite plushie to spend time with before the people in charge of the local orphanage came to pick him up. Junhui didn't really have much options; his Halmoni, the only other relative he had been acquainted with, had passed away about eight months ago. He didn't know much about the world, he didn't even know about life and death, or that his parents were never going to come back for him.

Had he been older, he might have cried, but three year olds didn't have the knowledge of the tears brought by death.

 

Everything had not been fine at first.

At first, his doll was taken away from him, and then, he became the rag doll of the older boys at the orphanage. At first, he would cry out; his tummy ached so bad. At first, he had gone searching for bigger band aids because the scars ran right across his chest and stomach.

As time passed, he understood a few things. As time passed, he didn't cry for help; he knew no one would come. As time passed, he stopped searching for cotton and Dettol; the wounds wouldn't have time to heal before he got beat up the next day anyway.

As time passed, he didn't curl up on himself anymore, rather just lay still and stretched out till his bullies were satisfied with their doing.

Disgust was something he had long forgotten, picking up the bowl of burnt porridge that had been spit on by a particularly sadistic older boy at the orphanage house. He shoveled his spoon in, dug out a huge chunk of the meal that was dripping with saliva, throwing it down on the ground, before walking away to eat the rest. The small white tee shirt he had managed to procure from the donations pile was beginning to tear, his ribs being seen through a particularly large hole on the side. He tried to cover it by folding the cloth up, but that just made the stretched fabric ride up his torso, showcasing the tell tale signs of the previous week's torment, a long purple and blue gash just above his abdomen. In any other circumstance, the colour would have been breathtakingly beautiful, but Junhui couldn't bring himself to care much.

The broken mirror in the common bathroom wasn't up for him to admire all the beauty on his body, anyway.

 

Junhui was 12 when he was handed a razor and asked to 'tidy up'. He nicked his finger the first time due to him being overly curious, and he immediately tried to stop the blood oozing out by applying pressure on it. Daehyun had come in then, the 16 year old had long since stopped preying on the younger after he had fought back the first time. He eyed Junhui carefully, confused at his bent over stance. Junhui just picked up the razor and waved it around, as if that would be a good enough explanation. The other just crossed his arms and looked even more confused, like Junhui had become foreign along with the new object. That ticked the younger off.

When Junhui told him what the caretaker had asked him to do, Daehyun's eyes had blown wide, and he immediately threw the razor away, the plastic handle breaking into two due to the impact of hitting the stone sink head on. He had collected Junhui in his arms, shaking him violently.

"Listen to me, Junhui." Junhui did pay heed, if only for the elder's ashen white face. "You have to run away tonight."

 

Expectations were alien to Junhui, hope was non existent. He'd learnt it time and time again, and he should have known he would be let down the one time he would rebel. He felt guilty, really he did; while he just gagged on wrinkled, old dicks and was forced to let their semen in his gut, Daehyun's stomach had been forced inwards when he had been stabbed. If he had just been fast enough in climbing out of that window that day two years ago, they both wouldn't have been here.

Daehyun had had the scar on him for a long time, but he never complained, never blamed the younger. They weren't close friends per se, but over these two years that they had been going round and round this cycle of prep, suck, bend over, repeat, they did manage to get closer, if only because they at least knew each other, in this new world with everything foreign.

Things weren't so easy when the pimp brought in victorious, but exhausted Mafia lords. They were nothing short of animals, biting and pulling and slapping and thrusting an entire fist in. It was never enough for them, the bastards.  
One night was particularly horrible; Daehyun being forced to find two large dildos in his behind pleasurable. The taut skin had ripped, blood oozing out of his hole, forced in with a butt plug. It was a crazy fetish to spank, according to Junhui; at one point it got crazy, he'd seen and been in some nasty ones. But that day, Daehyun had the worst of it all, being whipped mercilessly till the skin on his back made way for the blood to seep out. And like a final blow, that infertile pimp had kicked him in the gut for bringing in low wages.

That night, Junhui made his second resolve to escape, no matter how hopeless, sitting under a yellow street light in a tattered white vest and uncomfortable boxers, dabbing Savlon soaked cotton wool on the elder's back.

 

With Daehyun out of commission, Junhui had to work twice as hard, if that was even possible, and if that was even called work. Their measly meal was cut down since the elder couldn't work, and Junhui found himself unquestioningly sharing his own food with the other. Daehyun would refuse, and Junhui would just stuff the stale bread done the elder's throat when he opened his mouth to do just that. Junhui had almost begun living on the elder's bed, and they both liked that it was warmer when they bundled up both the blankets they had and huddled in together. November wasn't a really happy, warm month, but they'd lived through worse.

 

It was on one such night, enveloped by blankets and a flickering night lamp to fend off the dark, Daehyun had kissed Junhui.

 

They didn't have much to take with them, just their bodies, and their will. They didn't have a destination either. But they pretended to be happy, content with their life, believing that one day the pretense would feel real.

Daehyun would conjure them living in a penthouse next to a water bed, and Junhui would believe him, regardless of the mosquitoes sucking his blood or the stink of the swamp next to which they slept. The bridge above them was Daehyun's dream home's tiled roof, and Junhui let him imagine, inconspicuously tugging his sheet closer as the thunder roared.

Pretending was tiring.

 

Junhui's first, real job was as a dishwasher at a rundown inn in Seoul's outskirts. He fit in the place naturally, the holes in his clothes like the cracks on the roof, the void in his heart like the dearth of people. It didn't pay much, just enough for the both of them to afford one Ramyun packet a day, but he was happy. It was better that his stomach was digesting soggy noodles, than trying to digest itself with all the acid.

A few weeks later, things got better, with Daehyun finding a job at a construction site. It was back breaking work, but if that was going to put food on their table one more time in a day, Daehyun was prepared to do it. He saved bits of those crumpled notes that he earned, and at the end of three weeks, he bought Junhui a new tee shirt; something warmer than the thin vest, the only piece of clothing he owned. Junhui didn't wear it for a whole month, keeping it safe and neat in the plastic wrap it had come in, opening it occasionally to take a whiff of the smell of new cloth.

Daehyun would pick Junhui up every evening, helping him tidy the inn and set the tables before leaving for the night. The ahjumma who owned the inn noticed them both for a few weeks, and endeared by the two youngsters, she would give them some leftovers for dinner.

Things were getting better.

 

If Junhui knew anything about the World at 18, it was that good things don't last.

In less than two seconds, Daehyun was snatched away from him, and from the World, the car crashing into his lean frame on the foot path. Junhui watched in horror from the ground, on to which he had been pushed by the elder.

Thick, red blood dripped down his hair, the warmth of the fluid bringing Junhui back to reality. Scampering to his feet, he half ran, half crawled over to Daehyun's still body, shivering hands tentatively touching and feeling around his chest.

 

He only felt his own heart hammering inside his rib cage.

 

'We're just a tiny speck of dust in the Universe,' Daehyun had said once.

Lies.

All lies.

Junhui wasn't even as prominent as dust in Seoul.

 

"I really don't want to kill you, you know." Junhui curled in on himself as the other man settled his piercing eyes on his body. "Don't make it harder for me."

He whimpered as the cool surface of the gun made contact with his chin, the other man tapping it twice for emphasis. He bent down and arched his eyebrow, an air of finality in his posture.

"I won't tell anything to anyone."

"That's great, kid. Good choice."

"But don't you think we'd be really sure of this fact if we shut him up entirely?" Snickers. A bead of sweat rolled down Junhui's chin, simultaneous with a tear drop from his eye.

"Stop fooling around, both of you. Boss Jeon says to bring him in."

 

Then, there, dragged away from Daehyun's body, Junhui's life had changed again, for bad or worse.

This time around, he had the knowledge of death, he had the tears in his eyes; he just didn't have time to mourn his loss.

 

Junhui hiccuped, his body betraying him as his back arched at an impossible angle, meeting the other's thrusts half way. Wonwoo quickened his pace, his fingers interlacing with Junhui's as he pushed him down on the mattress, breathing heavily against his neck. Junhui drew in a sharp breath as Wonwoo hit his prostate, turning his head away as the tears began to flow down his cheeks. Wonwoo repeatedly hit the spot, and Junhui felt a sense of euphoria gushing through his veins as he came closer and closer to his climax. His limbs spread out on the comforter, he buried his hands in the dips, tugging and pulling at the sheets in sync with Wonwoo's thrusts.

Wonwoo bit down on his collar bone, and Junhui came right then and there, his vision filled with a bright white light and black stars. Wonwoo followed right after, grunting and moaning as he spilled his seed in Junhui. As the aftershocks died down, he slowly licked around the bite on Junhui's collar bone, sucking and nibbling a trail up his neck, finally meeting the other's lips in a rough, sloppy kiss. Wonwoo's tongue enveloped Junhui's as the elder finally brought his body down to rest on Junhui's. In a swift motion, he flipped them over, staring up at Junhui, satiated from the sex.

"You're mine."   
It was a statement.

"I'm yours."   
Junhui had to submit.

 

"I don't see why you don't like this arrangement." The elder said, buttoning his shirt and combing his hair with his fingers. "I am providing for you, after all."

Junhui just buried himself within the sheets, staring at his untouched breakfast. He shuddered when he heard Wonwoo step closer, forced to look up at him when the other pulled his hair back.

"You're lucky you're pretty, and you're lucky I like you. I could've killed you that day itself." He let go of Junhui's hair, fixing him in place with his gaze instead. "Bitch that you are, be grateful that your no good lover had a decent funeral at least."

 

"So many women out there, dying for him to notice them, and yet he chooses you, a wet rat."  
Junhui was used to these derogatory remarks, yet, they didn't hurt any less. This time, he wasn't given a razor and asked to tidy up, people were brought in to pamper him and ready him for Wonwoo.

She pulled the wax strip off with more force than necessary, and he bit his lip to stop himself from crying out loud. "What does he see in you, really?"

She hadn't been the first one to ask. Hell, everyone did. Even himself.

"I'm the one saving you, not the other way round." He had told him one night. "You aren't really doing anything by keeping mum about that accident. Even if people got to know, they'd just brush it off; no one gives a damn about a low life."

 

"Why me?"

"You don't remember, do you?" The other had laughed, but it came out as a wheeze, like he had difficulty breathing. He whispered something and left, but Junhui was sure he heard it.

"You're bound to forget with so many customers."

 

Never in his Life did he think he'd see him again, even as a portrait on the wall.

 

"That's my father."

He turned towards Wonwoo, startled, scared, goosebumps on his hands. The man who was Daehyun's regular customer, who was the reason for all those scars, those bruises, cuts, all that blood. The one who had whipped him and torn his skin. That animal.

Junhui had enough venom in him to throw the other down and finish him with the gun the man brandished all the time, but the older beat him to it. He pushed him up the wall, a hand strangling his neck.

"Don't stare at me that way," he spat in his face, tightening his hold. "You prostitutes are the reason my mother is no more. The reason I am this way today. This is all because of you gold diggers. You broke their marriage, made me an orphan with two living parents. You don't deserve life, neither does my father."

 

"Imagine the look on his face when I introduce one of his old prostitutes as my wife." He cackled. "That's the only reason I've kept him alive till now."

 

"This fire of revenge will burn you."

 

"There's nothing left in me to burn."

 

The first proper mirror of Junhui's life, he didn't get to see himself.

 

His long hair was being tied back, and his black chima being patted down.

The material was soft against his skin, contrary to the voice of the one calling him.

 

"Lady Jun Hee," the man bowed. "Master Jeon is waiting for you."

Junhui nodded, moving gracefully in the hanbok to the garden. He spotted Wonwoo near the pond, his arms crossed behind him as he stared at his mother's portrait hanging on the wall in the passage of the main hall. He saw his supposed 'father-in-law' next to the man, who immediately turned away as he saw Junhui. Well, the red lipstick couldn't have been that much of a turn off, especially when it used to be one of his top requests back when Junhui was in that human sex trade racket.

Straightening his posture, he felt a whimper behind him, and turned to see one of the maids holding a small bundle.

 

"Young Master Hansol is awake, Lady Jun Hee."

He took the baby in his arms, pulling him up against his padded chest. The baby latched on to him like a Koala, smiling up at him in between gurgles.

 

"You look nothing like your demon father," he said, mirthful. The baby just gurgled again, kissing his cheek.

 

"You may not have my blood in you, but if Karma is true, you will take my revenge for me, from your Father, just like he did to his own. As a man, I can't give birth to a child, but, I shall be your mother, blood or not, and I shall raise you and give you the joys of things I never had, if only for you to complete my vengeance.

If only for being my only justice in this World."

 

 

This time around, he had the knowledge, the tears, and he had the time.  
He had forever to mourn the loss of Junhui, who never did die, remaining as a hope called Jun Hee.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi... I admire you for reaching the end.  
> Please don't kill me.  
> Bye.
> 
> Fun fact: This fic is messed up... Obviously


End file.
